


Cold Paws

by starry_eyes



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber, Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats - T. S. Eliot
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 09:30:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8839411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starry_eyes/pseuds/starry_eyes
Summary: It gets cold in the Junkyard. Mistoffelees feels it the most.





	

It was finally winter in the Junkyard. Every breath was exhaled along with a wisp of smoke and paws and noses turned red from the cold. The fairy lights strung around the clearing glittered with a dusting of frost and, on the icier days, snow; many of the cats didn’t move from their dens except to hunt at this time of year if they could help it. Rags and blankets had been pulled out from the piles of trash and refuse, but they did little to help ward off the bitter chill, especially for those with thinner fur.

 

Mistoffelees was one of them. He was too stubbornly polite to get another blanket from the pile, arguing that the older members of the tribe should have the extras, should they need them, and so suffered and shivered alone in the pipe that he made his home in.

“Aren’t you cold, dear?” Jennyanydots had asked, hugging her coat tightly around herself.

“N-No, I’m fine, Jenny,” he lied, whilst poorly disguising the fact that his teeth were chattering. “Really, let Gus have them. He needs them m-more than I do.”

She beamed at him and put a paw on his shoulder.

“I’m sure he’ll be very grateful.”

He forced a smile in return and went back to his den, too cold to remain outside for much longer. As he pulled a threadbare blanket over himself, he hoped the winter would be short; this was his first without the warmth and safety of the other kittens, having performed his first mating dance at the Jellicle Ball just as summer had begun turning to blustery autumn (it had been an awkward affair with Electra and he preferred not to talk about it) – he was now a tom and had a den of his own. While he didn’t miss the snoring or the times he would have an arm suddenly thrust into his face as another kitten rolled over, he definitely missed the heat provided by the others. Miserably, he curled up into a ball and hugged himself in an effort to keep his body temperature from dropping too low.

 

At some point, he must have fallen asleep like this. He groggily came to, eyes still bleary from tiredness, as he was stirred by the sudden awareness of how much colder it had become overnight. The wind had changed direction and was blowing through the pipe he slept in, making a low howling sound and ruffling his fur the wrong way. His joints were stiff and he squirmed about, trying to find a more comfortable position. After realising he wouldn’t find comfort in this weather, he took his mind off of things by going out to hunt. Although it wasn’t really the weather for hunting, he was sure that he could use his superb sense of smell to find a mouse – just something to snack on and keep meat on his bones.

He stepped outside of his den into a delicate white coating of snow and shuddered as he felt it against his paws. The temperature had to be below freezing, but he decided to brave it anyway.

It seemed as if the entire tribe had disappeared. The Junkyard was isolated and all noise was muffled by the snow; only those with the best of hearing could make out the sounds of soft breathing coming from the dens dotted about. Mistoffelees couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy as he thought about the cats curled up in the warmth next to their mates, like Demeter and Bombalurina. Then, as he padded his way silently out of the tip, his thoughts drifted to questions such as “Will I have a mate by the next Jellicle Ball? Or will I have to dance on my own?”

 

Not much more than half an hour later, he came back to the Junkyard, deflated after an unsuccessful hunt. He had stalked a bird for what seemed like hours before it had noticed him out of the corner of a beady eye and had flown off, squawking indignantly, and he had no patience to keep wandering through the forest in hope of catching a scent and didn’t want to wander into the suburbs where the humans lived as he feared the foxes that scavenged in the bins. Plus, he couldn’t feel his paws, which had gone red.

Everyone was still inside their dens when he returned, though there were gentle murmurings coming from some of them as the tribe began to wake up from their slumber. There was a crash and a chorus of laughter from the kittens’ den, but still no one left the comfort of their homes, not even Skimbleshanks or Jennyanydots. Mistoffelees smiled tenderly. Reprimanding them could wait until the weather got warmer.

Eagerly, he slid into his own den, keen to be away from the bite of the chill. He was stunned to find he had company with not one cat, but two – the Rum Tum Tugger and Mungojerrie. They were lounging together and enjoying each other’s heat.

“Wh-What are you doing here?” he asked irately; all he wanted to do was sleep. He couldn’t tolerate the two of them at the best of times, and he certainly wasn’t going to entertain whatever they wanted that day.

Mungojerrie swished his tail and looked at the ground in an attempt to seem embarrassed at being caught in Misto’s den, but couldn’t keep up the act for long and broke into a grin.

“Waitin’ for ya,” he replied.

Mistoffelees flushed bright red beneath the white fur on his face and shifted awkwardly – both cats caught this. Tugger let out something that was between a laugh and a satisfied purr.

“I’m flattered, kitten, but we weren’t thinking of anything like that. You’re so gross,” the larger cat teased.

“Maybe some other time though,” Mungojerrie chimed in.

He blushed even harder at this.

“But really, we saw ‘ow cold ya were earlier and we thought ya could use some warmin’ up.”

The tuxedo avoided his piercing eyes and didn’t move an inch. He was about to tell them both that he was fine when he felt a large paw grab his leg and yank. Gracelessly, he went sprawling over both of his guests and he produced a noiseless gasp. Mungojerrie giggled and Tugger let go of his leg. Mistoffelees started to violently squirm in an attempt to get away from them both, but Mungojerrie moved him so that he was trapped in between them both; the two bigger cats rolled so that they were both snuggled against him, providing him with much needed warmth. The tux quickly stopped wriggling and accepted that they weren’t going to leave any time soon.

“I thought the Rum Tum Tugger didn’t care for a cuddle?” he quipped whilst appreciating how soft the Maine Coon’s fur was.

“Not applicable when it’s cold.”

Mistoffelees was about to respond with a witty one-liner, but was cut short when he felt a slender calico arm snake around his waist. The Rum Tum Tugger soon followed suite, enveloping him into a hug. He didn’t complain, and instead let the quiet breathing of the other cats lull him to sleep while the snow drifted down silently outside of the comfort of the pipe.

 

The three cats woke up together in the morning; Mistoffelees was nose to nose with Mungojerrie, and Tugger’s face was buried into his neck.

“Mornin’,” the largest of the three mumbled, still half asleep, into the tux’s fur. Misto squirmed as his breath tickled him and greeted both toms with an equally sleepy “Good morning”; Mungojerrie didn’t say anything, just stretched with a loud yawn. They laid there in the stillness for a while, savouring each other’s company, contentedly flicking their tails and nuzzling further into the nearest cat’s fur. The calmness was only broken by a queen hollering:

“Jerrie! Where the ‘ell are ya?”

The tri-coloured tom groaned.

“Guess that’s my cue t’ leave,” he sighed, “Teazer’s probably wondering where I am. I promised ‘er we’d go t’ The Goose and Gander t’ see if we could get our paws on some turkey.”

“Ugh, almost forgot you were a criminal,” joked Tugger, swatting at Jerrie’s bum as he crawled out of the pipe.

“Ugh, almost forgot ya were a sex pest,” he retorted. “See ya both later.”

“Who said there would be a ‘later’?” asked Mistoffelees, though he had a cheeky glimmer in his cerulean eyes. Mungojerrie grinned and winked at the smaller cat, before turning tail and setting off towards his sister’s den. Tugger, who had apparently woken up a little more, pressed a chaste kiss to the tux’s lips before jumping up and sauntering off. Misto was left dumbfounded for a second, before using his magic to drag him back to the den and return the kiss.

“Don’t kiss me and then rush off, you horrible tease.”

“I’ve got an adoring fan club to get to, kitten. They’ll get sad if The Rum Tum Tugger isn’t out in the clearing by 10.”

Mistoffelees rolled his eyes playfully. Then, Tugger was unceremoniously shoved out of the pipe; he landed in the soft snow outside, much to his distaste.

“See you later.”

 

A few minutes later, just as Mistoffelees was trying to drift off back to sleep again, he heard a shriek from Etcetera.

“HOW COME YOU AND MUNGOJERRIE CAME OUT OF MR MISTOFFELEES’ DEN?!”

He rolled over and sighed. Let the other cats jump to their conclusions. He was getting a well-deserved cat nap.

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a cute lil fluffy thing because it was super cold last week and I couldn't stop thinking about cuddling my Misto. <3


End file.
